


hit me with your best shot

by vitale



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Car Accidents, I don’t know if this qualifies as Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Relationship, Texting, awkward first meetings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25618111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vitale/pseuds/vitale
Summary: A trip to the ER is not how Adam imagined his day going, but a certain asshole with a black BMW has different ideas.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 33
Kudos: 256





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am back on my pynch bullshit
> 
> there’s a second part to this that is mostly written already and should be posted sometime soon that i didn’t know if i should post as a second chapter or a second part in a series? it’s a pov switch so i didn’t think it would fit a one-shot format. i’m pretty sure this one can read as a standalone and i kinda always wanted to do a series so i’m going for a series format but i might still decide to post it as a second chapter we will see

The car comes from Adam’s deaf side.

Which Adam later decides is a pretty irrelevant fact, because Adam doubts he could have avoided it if it had come from his right side.

Adam sees the flash of headlights a second too late as he’s crossing the intersection. The screeching of wheels against pavement is Adam’s only warning before he’s lying on dirty concrete and blinking up at the sky.

Adam is too stunned to fully process what’s happening.

There’s the sound of violent swearing and a car door swinging open, and then Adam’s view is obscured by a shadow. A person’s shadow—Adam can barely make out their features. His head is throbbing something terrible, and Adam desperately hopes it’s not the start of a concussion.

“Are you alive?”

“Fortunately for you,” Adam croaks out, pulling himself into a sitting position. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, but he suspects it has more to do with the asphalt scraping his skin than the impact.

The stranger says something else somewhere above him, but Adam is too busy making sure all his limbs are working correctly to pay attention. He’s shaking all over and his heart is beating a mile a minute, but nothing feels broken or severely damaged. It was just Adam’s luck that the street was completely deserted because this could easily have been a hit-and-run.

“Okay. Shit. Can you stand up?”

Adam would rather not try to do that yet. He gives up halfway through his first attempt and finally focuses his gaze on the stranger.

The very attractive stranger who looks about his age and is staring at Adam with an expression halfway between panicked and aggravated.

“You ran me over with your car,” Adam states, matter-of-fact. The man— _the asshole who just ran him over with his car_ —looks relieved for a second that Adam’s shock is wearing off, but his expression quickly turns confrontational.

“You came out of fucking nowhere.”

“You were driving like a fucking maniac,” Adam snaps back.

The stranger opens his mouth to argue, but he either takes pity on Adam or realizes he’s in no position to defend himself because he closes it right back and looks back at his car. Adam wonders if he’s going to leave him there without even making sure Adam is okay to walk it off, but the man immediately turns his gaze back to him.

“Get in the car.”

“What?”

“I’m going to drive you to the ER,” the man says slowly, like he’s speaking to a child. Adam gets the distinct impression that he’s not used to being very patient and that this is taking quite an effort.

“No,” Adam says. He realizes how stupid that sounds a second later, but he doesn’t care. The stranger lifts a pointed brow at him, and Adam swallows against his dry throat and tries to put as much confidence into his voice as he can. “I’m fine.”

“Get up, then,” The man shoots back, like it’s a dare. Adam doesn’t know where this man gets off getting frustrated with him when it’s his fault Adam is in this situation to begin with, but it was never like Adam to back down from a challenge.

Adam does succeed in getting up, but not without a significant amount of wobbling and his leg screaming out in pain the second he put weight on it. His right calf is definitely bleeding through his joggers. He doesn’t think it’s bad enough to warrant a trip to the hospital, but he doesn’t know if he can make it home on foot, and the only person who could pick him up is currently out of town.

Adam considers his options.

“Can’t you just drop me off at home?” The man looks highly skeptical, so Adam pushes on placatingly, “I don’t wanna press charges or anything. Just take me home and I’ll take it from there.”

“You just got hit by a car. Your leg is bleeding. I definitely think the hospital should be your first destination.”

They engage in a brief staring contest that Adam only loses because he realizes he doesn’t have a first aid kit at home.

It’s not like this day can get any worse, anyway.

Adam decides to call Blue in the car to give himself something to do and immediately regrets it.

_“Are you okay? What’s his name? Did you get his license plate? Are you on your way to the hospital? Did you hit your head? How badly are you hurt?”_

Adam can see the man wince in his peripheral vision. The volume of Blue’s voice is probably high enough to drift over to the driver’s seat.

“I’m fine, Blue. It was more scary than anything. My leg just hurts a bit. I don’t even need to go to the ER.”

 _“Of course you need to go to the ER, you just got hit by a car!”_ Blue shrieks. The sideways glances look increasingly alarmed. Adam bites back a sigh and runs a hand across his face.

“Calm down, Blue. I’m fine, I promise. I’ll call you from the hospital, okay?”

Adam hangs up before Blue has a chance to answer. He only feels bad about it for about five seconds.

“Your girlfriend sounds hysterical,” The man drawls flatly. Adam musters up the energy to glare at him even though he isn't looking.

“She’s not hysterical. She’s worried about me.” He adds rather unnecessarily, “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

The stranger shrugs and they spend the rest of the ride in silence.

They pull over in the hospital parking lot. Adam is still fumbling with his seatbelt when the passenger door opens and the other man appears at his side. He extends a hand like he wants to offer his help, then seems to think better of it and puts it in his pocket without taking his eyes off Adam the whole time.

Adam gives him a blank stare and he awkwardly steps aside.

Adam is discharged from the ER forty minutes later with a prescription of painkillers and a bandaged leg. He should expect a few bruises and needs to change his bandages every twelve hours, but he was lucky the guy jammed on the brakes when he did. Adam doesn’t feel lucky. The painkillers haven’t kicked in yet, which means he’s in a terrible mood, and the fact that he probably won’t be able to work for at least a week is doing nothing to make him feel better. The stranger is pacing around the waiting room when he gets out, which Adam vaguely feels like he should be thankful for but is too miffed to appreciate.

They get back in the car without a word. The stranger insists on dropping by a pharmacy to buy painkillers and bandages and refuses to take Adam’s money. Adam isn’t about to fight the man who ran him over for paying for his medical expenses, but he still makes a face when the man pulls out his credit card.

“What did they say?”

“They cleared me.”

“Nothing broken?”

“No.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Fine.”

“It’s not going to kill you to admit that you’re hurt, you know.”

Adam can feel his patience run thin. “Are you always this obnoxious or do you reserve it for people you land in the hospital?”

Adam expects a snarky comeback, but the man actually looks appropriately abashed. It’s not enough to assuage Adam’s temper.

“I was just asking if you were alright. What the fuck do you want me to say?”

“Oh, I don’t know, an _apology_ would be nice for starters.”

The man is silent for a long moment, so long that Adam is sure he’s being ignored. He stews in silence because he’s too drained to start a fight.

“I can buy you a drink.”

Adam thinks he misheard him for a second.

“You can’t make up for running me over with your car by _buying me a drink.”_

The man looks equal parts irritated and embarrassed. “I’m sorry I’m ignorant of the etiquette involved in how to apologize after hitting someone with your car. It’s not like it’s a regular occurrence.”

“I’m surprised this is the first time if you always drive like that.”

“You can’t buy dead people a drink.”

Adam gives him a flat stare and the man has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“It was a joke. I haven’t killed anyone with my car.”

“Such a relief,” Adam says wryly.

“Do you live alone?” The stranger asks suddenly. Adam gives him a look he hopes perfectly conveys _‘how is that any of your business’._ The man holds his gaze while driving, and Adam relents if only to get him to look back at the damn road.

“My roommate is out of town.”

The man gives a vague noise of acknowledgment. Adam thinks that’s the end of it.

“Ronan Lynch.”

“What?”

“My name. I’ll give you my number. You can call me if you need anything, or whatever.”

The man—Lynch’s—eyes are firmly on the road, but Adam can tell he’s not just saying it for the hell of it. Adam supposes this is only fair and what any decent person would do, but he can’t help but be slightly taken aback.

“Okay,” Adam says, because he’s too tired to argue, and it’s not like he actually has to call him.

“You should give me your number too.”

“Why?” Adam asks suspiciously.

“Because I don’t trust you to call me and I would like to know how the person I ran over is doing. For my own peace of mind.”

“Fine,” Adam says with a roll of his eyes. “You gonna give me your business card?”

“I don’t have a business card,” Lynch says, sounding oddly offended by the idea. Adam rolls his eyes again but doesn’t say anything else.

Adam takes out his phone to find six texts and one missed call from Blue. He promised to call her from the hospital about an hour ago, and she’s probably considering jumping on the first plane home by now. Adam makes a mental note to call her as soon as he gets home and leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment.

It takes less than ten minutes for Lynch to find Adam’s place. The man keeps it well below the speed limit despite the empty streets, and Adam suspects it’s more for Adam’s sake than out of any newfound moral compass. The man hands Adam his phone and tells him to put in his number, and Adam only toys with the idea of giving him a fake number for a brief second. Adam pauses before getting out of the car, and there’s an awkward beat where their eyes meet and Adam thinks he might actually get a proper apology, but Lynch just nods at him and turns his gaze away.

Adam has every intention of going straight to bed after calling Blue, but he forces himself to stuff down a slice of leftover pizza because painkillers on an empty stomach doesn’t sound like a good idea and he would rather not deal with nausea on top of everything else. He gives up on taking a shower and just changes into clean clothes, crumples his bloody joggers into a ball and throws them under his bed where he won’t have to think about them until later.

It turns out Blue was in fact planning to jump on the first plane to Boston tomorrow morning. Adam has to assure her about a dozen times that he’s as fine as someone can hope to be after getting hit by a car before she agrees to cancel her flight. She doesn’t sound particularly reassured, but she probably thinks even Adam wouldn’t lie about sporting debilitating injuries if he really needed her to come back.

He gets a text from an unknown number just as he’s turning off the light.

_sorry for running you over with my car_

_won’t happen again_

Adam is about ninety percent positive the man is jesting, but he can’t be entirely sure. He’s not sure it’s appropriate to joke around with the person you just hit with your car two hours ago, either, but Lynch doesn’t seem to have much regard for what’s appropriate or not.

_I would hope so._

Adam is ready to leave the conversation at that when he gets another text.

_you take the painkillers?_

_They gave me some at the ER._

_They’re just starting to take effect_

_you need help with anything?_

_don’t think you’ll be able to walk around much tomorrow_

_I’m good, thanks._

He’s aware of how curt that sounds, but he doesn’t feel particularly inclined to do anything about it _._

_alright fine i’ll leave you alone_

_offer to buy you a drink still on the table btw_

Adam frowns down at his phone.

_Are you trying to hit on me with the drink offers? Because if so I’m just going to tell you we’re off to a very bad start._

_oh my god fuck no_

_why would you think that_

_i told you i just feel bad for hitting you with my fucking car_

_if you don’t want to just say so_

Adam bites his lips, humiliated. That was definitely not the right thing to say. The vehement denial doesn’t sit right with him for a variety of reasons, but Adam figures it’s his fault for bringing that up in the first place. Adam can probably pass it off as a joke, but he’s too tired to pretend, and he just wants to get this conversation over with so he can sleep this whole night off.

_Okay, sorry for assuming._

_I’m gonna go crash now._

He hesitates before adding:

_Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine._

It’s a few minutes before Adam gets a response. He didn’t really expect Lynch to reply, so he’s a bit surprised when his phone lights up on his nightstand. Adam almost stops himself from checking it, but curiosity eventually gets the best of him.

_that kinda came out wrong_

_i’m not opposed to hitting on you_

_fuck. i mean i’m not some homophobe_

_i was just surprised you took it that way because i didn’t mean it like that_

_that’s all_

And well, if Adam sets his phone back down with the hint of an amused smile on his face, it’s not like there’s anyone around to see it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here is my [writing tumblr](https://magiccparrish.tumblr.com) if you wanna follow me there! i’m pretty inactive on tumblr in general and just made that blog to promote my fics but feel free to message me there
> 
> comments are extremely appreciated as always <3


	2. Chapter 2

Ronan shouldn’t even have been out that night.

He keeps telling himself that over and over in the hospital waiting room, and then during the drive to Parrish’s place. Maybe Ronan should listen to Gansey more often. Maybe he really should find a coping mechanism that doesn’t involve driving or drinking _(not drunk driving, Ronan isn’t that much of a dick)._ Maybe Ronan should have gritted his teeth through Gansey and Cheng’s little tea party and stayed the fuck home.

But Ronan had gone out, and he had been a little more distracted and reckless than usual, and he had hit someone with his car—not enough to cause serious damage, _thank_ _God_ , but enough to send them sprawling on the asphalt and to require a trip to the emergency room.

At least Parrish—Ronan had glimpsed his name when he was filling out the hospital form—was being pretty chill about it, all things considered. He didn’t want to press charges, which was a relief because Ronan _really_ didn’t want to have to explain that one to Declan, and he didn’t even seem to want to seek medical assistance until Ronan had forced him into it. But contrary to popular belief, Ronan actually had a conscience, and he wasn’t just going to let the man go when it was obvious the guy was bleeding through his pants.

He was still pretty damn pissed at Ronan, but that was understandable. His mood had seemed to worsen after leaving the ER, but Ronan wasn’t going to comment on that. Parrish didn’t seem very keen on exchanging numbers with him, but Ronan would lose his mind if he had no way of knowing how the person he hit with his car was doing. The guy seemed to be currently living alone, too, and Ronan figured it was only fair to offer his assistance, which for some reason had only seemed to make Parrish more prickly. He seemed to be a pretty touchy person in general.

Of course, he also happened to be one of the most beautiful men Ronan had ever seen, because fuck Ronan’s life.

No big deal though; Ronan wasn’t asshole enough to hit on someone he just landed in the ER, no matter how attractive they were. So it naturally took him off-guard when the man had asked if Ronan was trying to flirt with him out of the blue, and Ronan might have overreacted a bit.

Still though. No big deal.

He doesn’t tell Gansey what happened; just goes straight to his room and ignores Gansey calling his name from the kitchen. He knows Gansey will freak out and Ronan doesn’t need a lecture about how this could have been so much worse and he could have seriously hurt someone. Ronan is already doing a pretty good job of beating himself up on his own.

Ronan doesn’t know what possesses him to drive to a fast food joint during lunch hours the day after the accident and buy takeout for one. He has no clue if this is appropriate or if Parrish will even let him come in, but hell, the man _was_ hurt because of him, and apparently Ronan had _some_ sense of responsibility because he felt like it was his duty to make sure the guy wouldn’t starve.

Which is how Ronan ends up in front of the building he dropped off Parrish at the night before with a bag of junk food in his passenger’s seat.

It’s not too late to go back. Parrish probably _(definitely_ ) doesn’t want to see him, and he made it rather clear that he doesn’t need or want Ronan’s help. Ronan is probably overstepping some kind of boundaries, and it’s not like the guy is so wounded he can’t take care of himself. Ronan should just leave.

Or he could get out of the car, give Parrish the food, apologize again, in person this time, and leave him alone for good.

Ronan stays in the car and takes out his phone like a coward.

_hey_

_how’s the leg?_

He waits, and waits in his car for at least ten minutes. The food is going cold, and the security guard across the street is throwing him suspicious glances, and Ronan is starting to feel like a giant fool. Surely Parrish has friends he can call over if he needs assistance. Or he can just order in some fucking food. It’s not like he’s going to starve. Ronan shouldn’t be here. He’s not welcome if Parrish’s attitude last night was anything to go by, and this is probably overdoing it even by Gansey’s standards.

Ronan is about to pull out when his phone vibrates in his lap, almost making him jump.

_What do you think_

Okay. Parrish is still in a bad mood. Ronan should have expected as much. He considers not answering and just driving off, but his phone vibrates again before he can come to a decision.

_Is that your car outside?_

Fuck.

_i was passing by and thought i’d check on you_

A big fat lie, but it’s not like Parrish will be able to tell. He clearly thinks Ronan is a jerk, so it would probably be harder to make him believe Ronan drove here just to see him.

_How nice of you_

Alright. That’s it. Ronan is trying to be understanding, but he’s not a _saint_.

_are you going to be like that every time i message you because i will really leave you alone if that’s what you want_

It feels like an eternity before Ronan gets an answer. It’s not the one he was expecting by a long shot.

_Wanna come up?_

Well.

A couple of minutes later, Ronan is debating how he’s going to explain the food when the apartment door swings open.

Parrish is wearing a worn-out grey sweatshirt and green track pants. His hair is a mess and he looks a little pale, but Ronan couldn’t tell he was hit by a car last night if he didn’t already know. His expression isn’t all that amiable, but he did tell Ronan to come up unprompted, so Ronan figures he can’t be _too_ mad about Ronan showing up uninvited.

He looks even prettier in the morning light, Ronan will give him that.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Ronan says awkwardly. Parrish’s eyes fall on the paper bag in Ronan’s hand and he raises an eyebrow. Ronan clears his throat a little too loudly.

“Just passing by, uh?”

“My friend left it in the car.”

If Parrish doesn’t believe him, he doesn’t show it. “Come on in.”

Ronan thinks Parrish is going to usher him into the living room, but Parrish walks into what looks to be his room and gingerly sits down on the bed. There’s a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand. Ronan doesn’t know if he’s allowed to enter, so he awkwardly stands at the door and watches Parrish pop a couple of pills into his mouth and wash them down with water.

Parrish slowly gets back up and leads the way out of the room. He’s limping quite a lot, but he doesn’t seem to be in too much pain. That or he’s really good at hiding it. Parrish collapses on the living room couch and vaguely gestures for Ronan to take a seat, and Ronan hesitates for a second before settling on the couch as far from Parrish as he can without falling on his ass.

“Do you want something to drink?” Parrish asks as an afterthought, like he just remembered it was the polite thing to ask. Ronan shakes his head mechanically.

There’s an ice pack wrapped in a towel on the coffee table. It’s an uncomfortable reminder that Parrish probably woke up with bruising from last night. Ronan’s mouth goes a little dry at the thought.

“You didn’t answer my text,” he says to fill the silence.

It takes Parrish a moment to work out what Ronan is talking about. “It’s manageable.”

“Do you have a lot of bruises?”

Parrish rolls his eyes a bit. “It’s whatever. I’ve had worse.”

Ronan doesn’t ask.

Parrish grabs his phone from the couch and seems to forget Ronan’s presence for several minutes as he taps away at the screen. Ronan tries to look anywhere but at him, but it’s hard when Parrish is definitely the most eye-catching thing in the room.

“Did you eat?” Ronan asks into the silence.

Parrish seems too distracted to come up with a snarky response. “Not yet.”

“You can eat this,” he says, pointing to the greasy paper bag in his hand. He tries to make it sound casual and not at all like he bought the food specifically for him. Parrish looks up from his phone and gives him an unimpressed look.

Ronan makes a show of shrugging with disinterest. “I’m just gonna throw it away anyway.”

Parrish’s gaze turns piercing. “Why are you really here?”

Ronan has to make a conscious effort not to cross his arms defensively. “I told you. I was just passing by and thought I’d check on you. I wasn’t planning on coming up.”

Parrish looks unconvinced, but like he doesn’t care enough to push. He does look a bit peeved, and Ronan remembers that he actually did have a good reason to come here.

“Actually,” Ronan says like each word is physically paining him, “I kinda wanted to apologize.”

Parrish arches a brow but doesn’t say anything. Ronan holds his gaze and tries not to blink.

“So?”

“What?”

“Where is the apology?”

“I just _did.”_

“That’s your definition of an apology?” Parrish asks, but he sounds more unimpressed than angry. Ronan takes a deep breath and swallows his pride.

“I’m sorry for hitting you with my car,” Ronan amends. There’s a slight exasperated note in his voice, but he hopes Parrish either doesn’t notice it or is kind enough to let it go.

“And?” Parrish prompts, unperturbed. Ronan glares at him, but Parrish just keeps looking at him expectantly. The look on his face says he knows he’s putting Ronan through the wringer and is determined to make it last as long as he pleases.

“And I’m sorry for trying to put the blame on you,” Ronan says at last, hoping that’s enough to satisfy him.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” Parrish says dryly, but he does seem to relax a bit and his expression shifts into something more pleasant. Maybe he’ll stop looking at Ronan like _that_ now.

Ronan makes a vague noise of assent.

Parrish does end up eating the food, like he’s willing to take the olive branch Ronan offered now that Ronan properly apologized. Ronan just bought a plain cheeseburger and fries because he didn’t know what Parrish liked, but Parrish doesn’t seem to mind. He wonders if Parrish can tell that Ronan felt bad and took it upon himself to buy him food, but his face doesn’t give anything away. Ronan appreciates that he’s letting him get away with his white lie.

It’s almost an hour before Ronan realizes he’s probably overstayed his welcome.

“Thanks for the food,” Parrish says when Ronan stands up to leave. Ronan hums noncommittally without looking at him.

“I can get you a cream for your bruises. If you want.”

“It’s not that bad,” Parrish says for what feels like the tenth time in the past sixteen hours. He seems to hesitate for a second and bites his lip, like he’s debating something with himself. “I just put some ice on them.”

Ronan gets the distinct impression that wasn’t what he was going to say, but he has no choice but to go along with it. “Well, just give me a call if you need anything.”

Ronan is definitely not desperate for an excuse to visit him again, because _why would he be._ That would be stupid.

“Okay,” Parrish says, which is definitely progress from the last time Ronan had offered.

Ronan lingers a little too long on the doorstep, which is probably not a great idea because Parrish shouldn’t be standing for too long, but Parrish doesn’t rush him out the door. Ronan bids him goodbye awkwardly, and Parrish cracks a joke about Ronan driving home safely, and Ronan doesn’t realize until he’s back in his car that he feels a bit empty because he no longer has any reason to show up here again.

Ronan doesn’t allow himself to dwell on that for more than a few seconds, because that would be weird.

Ronan has only just been home for five minutes when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He thinks it’s Gansey until he slides the screen open.

_Might take you up on that offer to get drinks_

Ronan almost drops the phone.

_did your opinion of me improve that much since yesterday?_

_Maybe._

Ronan doesn’t smile at his phone and his heart doesn’t skip a beat at the implications of that. _Definitely not._

_wow can’t believe food was all it took to win you over_

_Yeah, that’s definitely what did it. The food._

_didn’t think i needed to mention my charming personality_

_I’m reconsidering what I said._

Ronan knows he’s probably joking, but he immediately feels the urge to take it back.

_i’m kidding_

_You also forgot to mention your great sense of humor._

Ronan can feel the sarcasm radiating through the screen, but it just makes his smile grow wider.

_what can i say i’m a delight_

_you should heal asap so we can grab a drink then_

_Can’t wait._

_i can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not_

_Take a guess_

Are they _flirting_? Ronan genuinely can’t tell.

_i’d rather not_

_I heal fast._

_does it hurt a lot?_ Ronan asks before he can think it through. He didn’t mean to steer the conversation in that direction, but he can’t help the pang of guilt that hits him every time Parrish mentions his injuries. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been by a long shot, but Ronan still did quite a number on him.

_Not really_ , Parrish replies, not that Ronan expected any different. Ronan wonders if it’s a habit for him to downplay his injuries.

_sorry again_

_It’s fine_

_It was an accident_

_And you were nicer about it than most people would be. Mostly._

_that’s me. nicer than most people_

_Ha ha._

_hey you said it_

_Uh-huh._

_guess i’ll just have to convince you then_

_Best of luck._

_I have to go_

_Try not to run over anyone else_

Ronan tries to ignore the wave of disappointment that washes over him. He only half-succeeds.

_i can’t promise anything_

_but i’ll try_

Ronan pauses for a moment before adding, feeling strangely emboldened, _see you soon, then_

_Soon,_ the answer comes only a few seconds later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> man i’m so bad at ending fics. i hope you liked this!! might write an epilogue because i’m forcing myself to write more often but since idk when it will come and i don’t really have any ideas rn i’m marking the fic as complete :)
> 
> thanks everyone for reading! <3 as usual here is my [writing tumblr](https://magiccparrish.tumblr.com) if you wanna talk to me or reblog the fic  
>   
> (also god why is it so much easier to write texting maybe i should just write a texting fic)


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